at the edges of these kinds of things
by memorysdaughter
Summary: During an attack on the FBI's New York office, Patterson and Jane are unexpectedly locked in the lab. Which wouldn't be so bad, if not for the fact that Patterson's just gone into labor. [future fic with canon divergence - David lives!]


**A/N:** This entire fic played out in a dream I had last night after a sleep-deprived weekend road trip, especially the very first line. I have no explanation for any of this.

Cross-posted to AO3 where I am earthquakegirl.

* * *

"My nipples hurt," Patterson says without turning around as someone enters the lab behind her. "Hilarious, isn't it? The very _last_ part of my body that's not swollen or throbbing or actively – _oh, ow_ – trying to squash me has now joined the party."

She awkwardly spins her swivel chair around and looks at her visitor – Jane. The tattooed woman looks horrified, and she seems slightly out of breath. She doesn't stop moving as Patterson turns towards her, just grabs Patterson's swivel chair and begins moving it towards the back of the lab.

"Oh, God, I said all of that out loud." Patterson goes bright red. "Please just forget I said it… what's going on?"

She shifts her position on the swivel chair. "Are you… okay?"

"Something's going on," Jane says in a low voice as she maneuvers Patterson's chair into the back part of the lab all of the assistants refer to as "Patterson's office." It's a mostly-square section of the room, cluttered with mementos and collectibles and, lately, strange foods. She peers out around the corner.

"Can you be more specific?" Patterson asks, shifting position again. She puts one hand to her back. "Like, 'there's free doughnuts in the break room' something or 'we're under attack again' something?"

"The second one," Jane answers tersely, and she draws her weapon. "Where's the controls to lock the lab down?"

"Over there." Patterson points as she attempts to wriggle her way off the swivel chair.

Jane takes off to the corner, slamming her hand onto the bright red button Patterson's indicated. Within seconds metal screens roll down over the windows and the doors. Jane turns around to see Patterson struggling to get off the chair.

A small smile crosses the tattooed woman's face. Jane holsters her weapon and crosses the room. "Need some help?"

"Tell me more about this attack," Patterson pants.

"Aren't you too busy worrying about your nipples?"

Patterson grins. "Apparently my body decided there weren't enough things to complain about, it needed one – _oof_."

She puts her hand to her back. "Come on, _really?"_

Jane grabs Patterson by the elbows and hauls her upright.

Patterson pants out, "Thank you."

She straightens up slightly. "God, I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

"And that's why I'm trying to keep you as calm as possible," Jane says. "We'll let Weller deal with …"

From the other side of the metal-clad door comes a series of repeated sounds – gunfire – followed by the loud _bang_ of an explosion.

"Deal with what?" Patterson demands. She takes a few steps towards Jane. "You need to tell me _now_."

Somehow Patterson's indignation is a little less terrifying than normal, considering the scientist is a full nine months pregnant. It's her condition that caused Jane more worry than normal – telling Patterson the full extent of the issue is guaranteed to increase her stress levels, and while Jane doesn't know much about pregnancy, she knows a great deal about pregnant Patterson, and two weeks ago, merely mentioning that the break room was out of decaf coffee caused the her to break down in tears, vomit repeatedly, and wind up with what she described as "the worst heartburn I've _ever_ had."

"I don't want you to worry," Jane says.

"Too late," Patterson grunts. "Talk."

"I don't know much." Jane takes Patterson by the arm and leads her back to the swivel chair. "There was a bomb in the elevator."

"A _bomb?_ In the _elevator?"_ Patterson's face goes pale and her breathing picks up.

Jane grabs her and forces her back into the chair. "It's okay. No one was hurt. The elevator was in the basement for servicing."

"David," Patterson gasps out. "David's supposed to be here today… to take me to lunch before… the doctor's appointment."

She hunches over on herself. Jane rubs her back. "Breathe. It's okay."

"I just…" Patterson wheezes. "Oh, _God_."

She grips the arm rests of the chair. Worriedly Jane puts one hand under Patterson's chin, bringing her upright. "Hey, hey, talk to me."

"Pain," Patterson gets out. "Pain, oh, _God_."

Woozily she looks up at Jane. "You're… swimmy…"

"Jesus." Jane grabs at her belt, pulling out her cell phone. "No service."

"Jane," Patterson chokes. "This feels…"

She stands up. Jane immediately puts her arms around Patterson, holding her up as she sways. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Patterson says. "I just think…"

She puts one hand to her swollen abdomen. "I need… something," she gasps at Jane.

"Okay. Okay, easy," Jane says, and tries to ease Patterson back into the chair.

From the other side of the lab, from the other locked-down window and door, more gunshots ring out. Patterson looks up at Jane, terrified but still resolutely on her feet. "You probably don't want to stand there."

"We are _safe_ ," Jane promises. "I just…"

There's a soft _splash_. Jane looks down in alarm. A small but definitely growing puddle pools at her feet.

"I told you that you might not want to stand there," Patterson says, looking a bit green. "I'm pretty sure my water just broke."

* * *

Two hours or so later, there's a pounding on the door. "Jane?" Weller yells. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah!" Jane hollers back.

"We took care of the problem! You can release the lab from lock-down now!"

Jane heads back over to the controls and hits the button again. Nothing happens.

"Jane?" Weller yells.

"I tried!" she shouts.

"Jane, it's okay," Patterson says. Somehow her water breaking has calmed her; she strides over to her computer, hands pressed to the small of her back. "It looks like the network's back up, so we can…"

She grits her teeth. "So we can get in touch with everyone else."

It takes twenty minutes, but Patterson eventually gets the rest of the team up on FaceTime. They seem to be gathered in Mayfair's office, sweaty and disheveled but otherwise fine. Mayfair speaks first. "We got in touch with the security officers. They're working on the doors. It seems that when our intruders took down communications, they managed to jam the door controls. It might take a while."

"That's okay," Patterson says cheerfully. Jane marvels at the absolute change in the scientist's attitude – she'd gone from nervous and in pain to strong and in control nearly instantly. During their captivity so far, she's walked around and around the lab, singing show tunes and trying to tell Jane the plot of every single musical she could think of. There were a few stressful moments when a contraction caught her off-guard, but mostly Patterson is a very pregnant ball of sunshine.

 _And all it took was her water breaking_ , Jane thinks sarcastically.

"First labors generally take a long time," Patterson adds. "In fact, the contractions aren't so…"

She grips the table. "Oh, _hell_."

"Wait a minute." Weller gets _very_ close to the lens. "She's in labor? Jane, why didn't you mention that?"

"I was getting there," Jane gets out exasperatedly. "Yes, Patterson's in labor."

"This was _not_ on my birth plan," Patterson screeches at her. "There were supposed to be _drugs!_ And _soft music!_ And a _blow-up pool_ in the _living room!"_

Jane puts her hands up, trying to pacify Patterson. "It's going to be all right. You said it yourself, first labors take a long time. They'll get us out of here. Just… sing some more show tunes, okay?"

There's a knock at the door of Mayfair's office; Reade gets up to answer it. He returns with a very nervous-looking David, who runs towards the screen. "Oh my God, honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Patterson tells him. "I'm fine. Things are fine."

"She's in labor," Zapata says _sotto voce_.

"Tasha!" Patterson protests.

David goes pale and his eyes roll up in his head. Weller, standing behind him, just manages to grab the other man before he hits the floor. "He's fine," Weller says. "He's unconscious, but he's fine."

"Such a drama queen," Patterson mutters. She puts her hands to her back and calmly waddles across the floor to the other side of the lab. When she gets to the metal panel she raises both hands and begins pounding. "GET US OUT OF HERE!" she screams.

Jane takes her by the arms and yanks her away from the door. "You're fine. David's fine. We're going to get out of here."

"I can't give birth in here," Patterson yells. "It's _dirty_ and it's not my _house_ and it's my _lab_ and there's no _David_ and…"

She abruptly cuts herself off with an _urp_. Jane sees the panic in her eyes and grabs the closest garbage can. Patterson leans over just in time and vomits. "Oh, God," she murmurs. "I think… I think I might pass out."

"Not on my watch," Jane says firmly, and she frog-marches Patterson over to her swivel chair. "You need something to eat."

Once she's sure Patterson isn't going to actually pass out, Jane heads over to the fridge in the lab's corner and finds what she thinks are safe, bland foods – two little cups of applesauce and a handful of Popsicles. "Can I get you to choke down either of these?"

"Popsicle," Patterson gets out.

"Everybody okay in there?" Weller asks.

"Yeah, we're good," Jane says. She digs out a spare lab coat and runs a sleeve of it under cold running water. "Put this on your head."

Patterson nods, allowing Jane to position the wet sleeve over her eyes. She seems to sink down beneath it, eating her Popsicle and trying to keep her breathing even.

Jane makes her way over to the screen, looking Weller directly in the eyes. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she says quietly. "I have no idea how long this is supposed to last. I have absolutely _no_ experience with labor and delivery."

Mayfair steps up next to Weller. "If it comes to that, we'll help you from here as much as we can."

"How long has she been in labor?" Weller asks.

"Pretty much since I came in here," Jane answers helplessly.

Weller glances at his watch. "That's about three hours."

From the corner of Mayfair's office, Reade speaks up. "From what I know, pregnant women going through a natural birth generally listen to their bodies throughout the whole thing. They know, in some part of their brains, what needs to happen. Whatever it is might look weird to you, but Patterson's going to have… instincts."

Everyone else in the office, save the unconscious David, turns to look at Reade.

"What? My mom's a midwife," Reade says.

"Jane?"

Jane turns to look at Patterson, who's still under the lab coat, slurping away at the bright blue Popsicle. "Yeah?"

"I need to lay down."

Jane exchanges a glance with Weller and the rest of the team. "Okay, we'll make that happen."

"We'll be right here," Weller says.

"The SWAT team is here now," Zapata says. "We need to go talk to them about what happened."

"We'll be right back," Weller amends. He gives Jane a reassuring look. "We'll call you again as soon as we're done. Who knows? Maybe they'll have the doors open by then."

* * *

Four hours later they don't have the doors open. Patterson is flat-out miserable. She'd taken a forty-five minute nap on a pile of lab coats and spare fire blankets while Jane massaged her calves and ankles. Upon waking she'd burst into tears and was absolutely inconsolable until Jane suggested they try to raise David on FaceTime.

He seemed nervous, but he'd managed to get her smiling and then laughing, simply by playing a game over the Internet with her. Jane had no idea what it was, but in between contractions Patterson seemed to be calm and happy.

Now Weller appears onscreen, holding up his cell phone, showing Jane the screen, which holds their text message log. He points at it and nods.

Jane takes out her own phone, waiting for the incoming message.

 _They're having a bit more trouble than they thought getting the doors open. How far apart are the contractions?_

Luckily Jane has an answer for that. _Two minutes. I think we're getting close_.

Onscreen Weller nods. _What do you need from us?_

Jane looks over at Patterson, who's gripping her iPad tightly as a contraction rolls over her. _I have no idea, Weller._

"Jane?" Patterson's voice is oh-so-tiny.

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me stand up?"

"Of course I can." Jane looks back at Weller. "Stay close," she murmurs.

He nods.

Over the next hour Patterson leans on Jane, her arms on Jane's shoulders, swaying both of them back and forth. Somehow Weller's gotten David back in front of the camera, and he's trying to offer supportive commentary as best he can. It's clear he and Patterson have reached the same level of freaked out.

"I just want you to keep breathing," David says.

"I _am!"_ she snaps at him as the contraction reaches its apex.

"Okay, good! I'm breathing too!"

"Good for you!"

The contraction passes and Patterson looks over at David's image on the screen. "I'm so sorry!"

"I'm sorry too!" he cries. "I didn't mean to tell you to keep breathing – you're a scientist and obviously you know…"

"… that oxygen is important for all aerobic activity including…"

"… which definitely includes labor," David finishes.

"I wish you were here," Patterson cries.

"It's okay. I'll be there soon. The _second_ they get those doors open I'll be there," David promises.

"Jane's doing a good job," Patterson says, as though she's forgotten that the person she's leaning on is Jane and not just some department store mannequin, "but she's not you."

"Gee, thanks," Jane mutters.

"No," David agrees. "Somewhat… more tattoos and less… mannish."

Jane rolls her eyes. "You guys are lucky you're cute," she informs Patterson as the scientists' hands dig into her shoulders again. "Otherwise I'd have shot something by now."

Patterson moans as a contraction grabs her again.

"I'm right here," David says.

"Except you're _not_ ," Patterson wails.

Against Jane she freezes.

"What is it?" Jane asks softly.

"I need something," Patterson says.

Jane looks around at the lab. "Can you be more specific?"

"I want to…" She grunts. "… I think I want to squat."

Helplessly Jane looks over at the screen. Weller and David peer into the lab, the same looks of helplessness on their face.

"Instincts," Reade says from behind them as he bites into a cruller. "If she says she wants to squat, let her."

Jane takes a breath and nods. "Okay. Let's do this."

* * *

The security officers are talking to them as Patterson squats, bracing herself on Jane.

"Ma'am, we're doing the best we can," one of them says.

"There's a woman giving birth in here!" Jane informs them.

She's pretty sure that's what Patterson's doing, now that the scientist is in a squatting position, counting softly under her breath. Every now and then she feels Patterson's hands grip her pant legs tighter.

"We've got EMTs and her life partner right here," the security officer says.

"Life partner?" Jane mouths.

"He doesn't want… _hnnn_ … to be my… _hrrrr…_ boyfriend," Patterson pants.

"Well, hurry up!" Jane snaps at the door.

She crouches down next to Patterson, taking the other woman's hands in hers. "This is going to sound horribly insensitive, but I'm pretty sure there's a baby coming out of your… lady parts."

"It's about damn time," Patterson grunts. "Just… don't drop it, okay?"

Jane's been in combat with terrorists and drug dealers and escaped felons; she knows some of the nation's most classified secrets and she's got hundreds more tattooed over her entire body. She is not a woman who scares easily. But the mission in front of her now is, by far, the most terrifying thing she's ever faced.

But "okay" is the only thing that comes out of her mouth, and she squares her shoulders like any good soldier going off to battle.

* * *

Jane doesn't drop him.

And the security officers manage to get the doors open not three minutes after Patterson's son slides into her hands, wet and squalling and generally displeased with this entire _birth_ thing.

He's wrinkled and red and unhappy with the whole process, but as he's swept up into yet another spare lab coat, his eyes open. They're big and blue and Jane falls for him nearly immediately. She wraps him up and lays him on Patterson's chest.

"Thank you," Patterson says breathlessly. "God, he's gorgeous."

"You did amazing," Jane tells her. "You're… so strong."

"You will be too," Patterson murmurs, tracing one finger down the baby's face. He hiccups and presses his face against her chest.

Jane freezes.

Patterson looks over at her, somehow seeming much older than Jane's ever seen her appear. A tired smile crosses her lips. "Just don't wait too long to tell Weller, okay? Eventually you're going to go into labor and I'd _hate_ to be trapped in here with you."

"Why, because you're just as clueless about labor and delivery as I am?" Jane asks, trying to mask her shock.

"Oh, no," Patterson says, shaking her head. "I worked as an EMT for a few summers – I _know_ how to deliver a baby. But if you and I are trapped in here together when _you're_ giving birth, we both know Weller's going to use _anything_ to get in here. Including that Civil War cannon they confiscated from that arms dealer's mansion."

She shifts the baby to her breast. He nuzzles into her and then seems to latch on.

"I'll tell him," Jane says.

"Good," Patterson says tiredly.

And that's when the door opens, and EMTs and David and Weller and the rest of the team rush in. Jane stands up, letting them get to Patterson; she falls into Weller's embrace almost hungrily, kissing him. "I missed you," she murmurs.

"I missed you too," Weller says. "Everything okay in here?"

Jane nods. "Better than okay. Amazing, even."

"Gosh, he's a tiny fella," Weller says softly.

Jane squeezes his hand. "I have something to tell you."

"Yeah?" Weller asks, not taking his eyes from the baby.

"Yeah," Jane replies. "But not here. Let's give them their first few minutes as a family… so I can tell you something about ours."

He looks at her in surprise.

Jane catches Patterson's eye; the scientist grins and gives her a covert thumbs-up as she watches her two coworkers step out into the hallway and into their future.


End file.
